When the World Changes

I wasn’t sure I had anything to add to the many people writing about this pandemic. Feeling loss? Boredom? Frustration? Or is there a comfort in staying home and simplifying your life?

No matter what you are feeling, your feelings are true. If there is one thing I’ve learned in my nearly 68 years (yikes), it is this: feelings are meant to be felt. Some days I am on a roller coaster. My mornings start with coffee, reading blogs, and catching up on the news. I print cards to donate to local businesses or bake bread (who isn’t?). But around 1pm, I feel myself sinking into a kind of despair. What I know now is to let it come. No more pushing feelings under the rug, or saying “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Usually a short nap, a motivational podcast, 5 minutes of meditation or even a dog walk helps me work through and come out of the darkness.

We need to acknowledge this hard time. We are not all fine.

But we will be.



What I’m reading and listening to:

A sweet story about a child and a USPS mail carrier (LOVE this)

Podcast: Checking In with Susan David

Small Ways to Improve Your Life, Gretchen Rubin and Dan Harris

Seeing Each Other

This Too Shall Pass: Mourning Collective Loss in the Time of Covid-19.



Thinking About Friends

We are in the last third of our lives. That sounds a little scary, a little limiting, slightly stressful. But not really.

Retirement is allowing us to do exactly what we want. Whether it’s traveling with friends or spending time walking the beach in Rhode Island, David and I find these slower moments help us know how we want to spend this time.

Soon we will head to France, meeting friends from North Carolina that we happened to meet on our first trip three years ago. What a joy to travel with them, sharing our experiences, and making memories.

Mom is in a good place, truly living in the moment, not worrying about the past or the future. Alzheimer’s does that. But we could all learn from this. All we really have is the present.

Enough by David Whyte

 Enough. These few words are enough.
If not these words, this breath.
If not this breath, this sitting here.
This opening to the life
we have refused
again and again
until now.
Until now